


this story is not inevitable

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Armitage Hux Has Issues, Character Death Fix, Doomed Timelines, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Poe Dameron Is A Mess, Time Loop, Uneasy Allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: Dying every day had become, well, just another unsavoury yet inevitable everyday experience to check off Hux's growing list of unsavoury yet inevitable everyday experiences.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 18
Kudos: 46
Collections: Hoelidays Gift Exchange 2021





	this story is not inevitable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trite/gifts).



CYCLE 25 

Dying every day had become, well, just another unsavoury yet inevitable everyday experience to check off his growing list of unsavoury yet inevitable everyday experiences. That was, until Hux heard those sweet, death-changing words from the Resistance prisoner:

_"Me, too."_

Then, the usual thirty second oblivion before he came to, cold grey-green eyes staring back at him from the mirror in his 'fresher. Or maybe _through_ him, chastising him for yet another reappearance. This was the twenty-fifth time, he realised, though he'd _tried_ to stop counting around the fifteenth.

At least this time hadn't been painful, he supposed. Most likely he'd been knocked unconscious, as had happened twice before, but that didn't account for his inability to _feel_ anything new. His nervous system was riddled with the phantoms of his previous deaths - bruises that bloomed unseen, a shooting pain in his thigh, and a shortness of breath that, according to the _Steadfast's_ medical droids, had no physical cause.

He picked up the cloth behind the basin, wiping at a fingerprint he didn't remember being there before, and tried to make sense of what Dameron had said to him, with hope warming his deep, brown eyes.

And then they'd all died.

He remembered that much, at least - that whatever killed him had taken out all of them. It had been one of the shorter cycles, save for the couple of times he'd stepped into a faulty turbo lift that had plummeted down several levels. No doubt Ren had sabotaged it, whether knowingly or unknowingly, with one of his pathetic temper tantrums.

As he did at the beginning of every cycle, he retrieved his datapad and filed a report regarding the damage to the turbo lift. The next order of business would be to guide Chief Petty Officer Unamo away from the turbo lift in question, and point her towards the fully functioning one just down the corridor. During that awful third cycle, he'd heard her neck snap as he blacked out. She didn't remember, but he could at least prevent her suffering the same fate again...and again, and again. He tried not to think about what happened _after,_ or if anything did happen after. It went about as well as trying not to keep count.

Hux checked his chrono by the turbo lift, but he hadn't made a mistake. Unamo should have arrived by now, and the fact that she hadn't unsettled him. Up until now, every cycle had been exactly the same unless _he_ changed them, because he was the only person suffering from this particularly nasty form of déjà vu.

Except for Poe Dameron, apparently.

All he had to do was recall the knowledge of each previous cycle, making sure he didn't die before coming into contact with the prisoners (or right afterwards, before he'd had the chance to learn anything). It had also crossed his mind that this was all some trick of Ren's. That was the trouble with mysticism. He'd seen the Supreme Leader - _both_ Supreme Leaders - use the Force to influence memories and perception, to turn a person's own mind against them. Then again, Ren's machinations were rarely so meticulously planned when it came to Hux, and lately he'd barely even bothered with him. That suited him just fine, especially given that Ren was so sure of his _abilities_ that not a single loyalty officer walked the _Steadfast's_ corridors.

It didn't feel quite right to leave before Unamo arrived, but she was nearly five minutes late, and if he lingered much longer he'd be heading into uncharted territories. He resolved then to retrace the steps of the second cycle, when he hadn't spoken to Unamo or sent her towards the other lift. He'd met with Dameron then, and had enough time to talk, albeit briefly.

 _"I knew it!"_ Hux actually allowed himself to smile. That made so much more sense now.

It was just too bad that, at that moment, he found himself in a flametrooper's line of fire.

CYCLE 26 

Thirty seconds passed, and Hux found himself back in the 'fresher. Burning to death, he decided, lifting his index finger to touch the mirror where the fingerprint had been, was definitely something to avoid in future. He still felt as if his flesh were aflame, cooking in the merciless jets of fire, while he choked on his own ashes. He found himself wondering how Dameron had gone this time. Most likely a swift blast to the back of the head, which seemed almost palatable in comparison to the flamethrower. Not that it really seemed to matter _how_ it happened, in the end. Just that it happened. Even so, he couldn't help but think that Dameron must have had one hell of a headache.

Unamo didn't come this time either, but Hux resolved to press on. He'd still filed the report to maintenance, after all. There really wasn't anything else he could be expected to do in the situation. Even if he managed to avoid the flametrooper this time around, he wouldn't know what else to expect after that if he didn't stick to his schedule.

The _Millennium Falcon_ had been commandeered, and he needed to get to Pryde to discuss the Wookiee prisoner, whose capture Hux had redacted from his report, with the intention of gaging Pryde's reaction when he delivered the news in person. Of course, at the time, he hadn't known just how many times he'd have to see that face. He swallowed as he stepped into the other turbo lift to make his way to the _Steadfast's_ bridge, to meet the man who couldn't seem to stop killing him. Eighteen cycles and counting, to be precise. Around the seventeenth, he'd walked straight onto the bridge to announce that he was the spy and tell Pryde to go fuck himself.

It had been worth it.

But Pryde wasn't feeling especially murderous just yet. Or rather, he probably was, but wouldn't act on it unless Hux deliberately provoked him. It was still tempting, in its way, but if he faltered then he wouldn't reach Dameron. Ironic, really, when only a year ago he'd fantasized about getting that pilot back in an interrogation chamber.

(He'd discarded those particular fantasies, as he'd recalled upon seeing Dameron's face again, after they'd taken a somewhat uncomfortable turn.)

Hux took a deep breath, and stepped onto the bridge, cool and confident. It was easier when he knew exactly what to expect, and could anticipate the precise moment Pryde's carefully composed mask would slip, and his stride would hitch. The bridge crew would ignore him, a janitor droid would scuttle out of his way, and Hux would make sure everything proceeded as it ought to. Even the humiliating parts.

“We recovered the scavenger’s ship,” he began.

Hux spent the rest of the afternoon filing datawork, which should have been easy when he'd filled out the forms so many times before. But one of the light panels in his office kept flickering, which was both disturbing and disorientating. It wasn't supposed to happen - that is, it hadn't happened in previous cycles, and it made him as uneasy as Unamo's sudden disappearance. 

The Supreme Leader would still be stewing over his visit to the Wookiee now. Hux certainly didn't envy the beast, though he had to admit that in previous cycles it hadn't seemed overly shaken by their encounter. Ren, on the other hand, had practically been frothing at the mouth following his interrogation of the creature, and Hux at least felt some measure of satisfaction there.

The scavenger was on the ship, too, which had amused him no end the first time he'd run into her (the eighth cycle). Even if she had inadvertently caused his death that time around, when the blaster fire she'd deflected with her lightsaber came for him instead. But he wouldn't see her this time, or at least he _shouldn't._ When it came down to it, most of that depended on Dameron, which was something of a terrifying thought.

He set his datapad down after checking his chrono again. It was almost time.

Dameron met his gaze as soon as he and Pryde arrived on the scene, with a kind of wild-eyed intensity. Hux couldn't exactly blame him.

"The girl's not with him," said one of the three stormtroopers, obviously not quite sure whether they should address himself or Pryde, whose feigned disinterest in the whole affair was bordering on absurd.

"Take them away. Terminate them." Hux tagged along, matching his stride with Dameron's (though the rifle butt against his own back was, for now, figurative).

"We don't have much time," Hux said, his voice low. They'd have to be careful - stormtrooper helmets did impair their wearers' hearing, but not significantly.

"You've said that a few times now. So, how many times have you died?"

"Twenty-five." He winced. Saying it out loud made it...more real, somehow.

"Huh. Me, too. I'd say we've got to stop meeting like this, but I guess we've missed each other a few times." Hux sighed, more dramatically than he would have liked, but the walk to the execution chamber was not a long one.

"I told you we don't have much time. Don't waste it with small talk."

"Hey, Poe, are you okay?" Dameron's companion turned to him, then lurched forward as the stormtrooper's weapon pushed against his back. They never did take kindly to one of their own turning on the First Order. Their programming made sure of that. The Wookiee roared, bearing its fearsome teeth.

"I'm fine, buddy. Was that _really_ necessary?" It took Hux a moment to realise Dameron was questioning _him,_ and it wasn't the question he wanted to be asked. Besides, what did it matter? It wasn't as if _his_ bruises would carry over into a new cycle with him - at least he didn't think that was how it worked. He glanced uneasily at the stormtroopers, and at the rifle he'd used to shoot the three of them before. Then again, he didn't even know if this was real.

"Do you think it's the Force?" Dameron asked, evidently realising that it may, in fact, be beneficial to discuss their predicament. He noticed Finn's eyes flicker towards Dameron, but the young man said nothing.

"No." Dameron sighed, deflated, as if he'd been hoping for any insight on that particular topic from Hux, of all people.

"Me neither. Pretty sure Rey would have noticed something like that."

"Why are you talking to him?" Finn hissed, low enough this time that his captors didn't catch on. Hux feared his eyes may roll out of their sockets as he watched Dameron mouth _'he's the spy'._ Finn didn't make any further comment, but with an expression like that he hardly needed to.

The Wookiee ducked as they entered the sterile execution chamber, with Finn and Dameron still muttering to one another. As he glanced around the small room, it suddenly hit Hux what had happened the last time he was here. These chambers were designed with jets built into the walls to release heat and toxins to break down human (or certain non-human) remains. The thing was that if a _living_ being inhaled those toxins, they'd be knocked out pretty quickly. Hux wouldn't really have minded if that particular death had remained a mystery. The whole situation was pretty grim, but the notion of a reality in which any physical trace of General Armitage Hux had been thoroughly obliterated was what made it so unacceptable.

"Yeah, the jets," Dameron muttered. Hux didn't know whether to be irritated or impressed that Dameron had worked it out before him, so he settled for both. "To be fair, they weren't as bad as the time before, when- never mind, I'll tell you later. We've got a script to follow here, right?"

"Quite," Hux said. "Now turn around." He approached one of the stormtroopers and gestured for her to hand over her weapon. First Order troopers might have been trained to follow orders to the letter, but even _they_ had to be getting suspicious by now.

"I'd like to do this one myself." The blaster clicked as it recognised his identiprint, and he aimed at Dameron, just for a moment, before turning to stun the three troopers in quick succession. He couldn't say why. It was riskier than killing them, since one could never be precisely sure how long the effect would last - individual anatomy and armor placement each played a significant role. But it was what it was.

"We don't have much time," he repeated.

Everything went smoothly until Dameron refused to get on the _Millennium Falcon._

"Didn't you hear him, Poe? We've got _seconds!"_

"So get moving, buddy. I'll see you on the other side, but there's something I gotta do here. Please," he clasped Finn's hand, briefly - they really did only have seconds, _"trust me."_ Hux looked on as Finn gave Dameron's hand a quick squeeze.

"May the Force be with you." And with that, he was gone, leaving Dameron in the corridor with Hux and a few trite words.

"I always die," he said softly, by way of explanation, as the _Falcon_ left, "and usually they do, too. I got to thinking that maybe I'm _supposed_ to stay here, and then after you told me- well, anyway, here we are."

"Here we are, indeed," Hux sighed, signalling for Dameron to start walking, "I don't imagine you have any bright ideas for what I'm supposed to _do_ with a rebel pilot?" Dameron smirked.

"Not just any rebel pilot. Acting _general_ of the Resistance."

 _"Acting,"_ Hux repeated, with what he deemed an appropriate level of disdain. Dameron shrugged, as if to say _take it or leave it._ "You're suggesting I interrogate you." It wasn't the worst suggestion in the galaxy.

"Preferably _you'll_ be acting, but yeah." Hux barely suppressed an undignified snort, and tried to recall the location of the nearest interrogation chamber. Having grown up on star destroyers, he knew the ship's layout like the back of his gloved hand. Any differences were minor enough that newly transferred officers were able to navigate the ships' highly polished corridors with ease.

"This way."

Dameron flopped back into the chair in Interrogation Six, looking as exhausted as Hux felt. His tawny skin had taken on a greyish, waxy quality, reminding Hux of the officers under his command who got through their working days on too many stims and not enough sleep. Yet his bright eyes still betrayed that dreadful rebel determination.

"You're not going to chain me to the wall?" He nodded towards the shackles that had held the Wookiee in previous cycles.

"Why? Are you into that?"

"Ah, so you _do_ have a sense of humour. At least I hope you're joking, or that's just awkward." Hux frowned at him, wondering why his remarks were so frequently received in this manner. "Relax, I'm kidding. Anyway, now that we've broken the ice, as it were...what the _hell_ is going on?"

"Do you think I'd be asking _you_ if I knew?" This whole ghastly affair was like something out of a confiscated comic series he'd once read. (He'd _only_ flicked through to sate his morbid curiosity about New Republic entertainment. He didn't see the appeal then, and he _definitely_ didn't now.)

It had also come to his attention that, without the hindrance of restraints, Dameron had managed to drape himself over the sleek, black interrogation chair like it was a damned chaise lounge. It was distracting. Hux couldn't for the life of him figure out how anyone could get themselves so comfortable, when he tossed and turned all night in his own bed.

"I don't think you really have anyone else you _can_ ask. Neither of us do." In one awful moment he'd considered going to Ren, which, granted, would have been far worse. As it was, this was hardly ideal, but Hux would have to work with what he had. They both would, for better or worse.

"Maybe that's by design," Dameron continued, possibly more to himself than to Hux, "I don't really know. But if both of us die, wherever we are...is there some way we can get out of here together?" The problem (or at least _one_ of them) was the same thing that had kept Hux on the _Steadfast_ in every single cycle - he had no idea where he'd even go. The dreary rainfall of Arkanis was no more than a distant memory, and he had no ties outside the Order to speak of.

Then again, there was no longer anything to tether him here, either.

"There might be." Naturally, every _Resurgent-_ class star destroyer had a complement of two starfighter wings, a hundred AAL-1971/9.1 troop transports, a light cruiser, and a variable number of short-range evacuation vehicles. The problem was getting Dameron within proximity of any one of those, especially with all First Order staff on high alert following the _Falcon's_ 'miraculous' escape.

"So, what you're saying is that this is a _'yes, but'_ kind of situation?" As absurd as the prospect might be, the mere possibility of an escape plan seemed to ignite some kind of spark in Dameron, and it burned in his eyes like wildfire. "Given the circumstances...I'm willing to get creative."

"You've flown a TIE before," Hux said, gritting his teeth as he remembered the incident that started all this. Who'd have ever imagined that a single escaped prisoner and a traitorous stormtrooper could cause so much trouble? "That'd probably be our best chance."

He didn't doubt that Dameron could pilot one of the troop transports, but there were significantly more armed guards to get past in that hangar bay, and the disappearance of the only light cruiser would be rather conspicuous. The escape pods would be easiest to get to, but offered precious little in the way of protection if they were detected by the ship's scanners, and, while it was a comparatively small consideration, Hux wasn't especially keen to share a small, cramped space with Dameron (or anyone, really) if he could help it.

"Alright. Yeah, we can do this." He wondered what his life might have been like if he had even half of Dameron's easy confidence, but it wasn't something to dwell on.

Dameron had no right to look so good in a First Order pilot's uniform. He wouldn't have looked out of place in a propaganda vid, had it not been for his two day old stubble, and dark, tousled hair, threaded with silver. Hux felt a small ripple of relief when he put his helmet on. The hangar bay would likely be empty, aside from the odd astromech droid, but the same couldn't be said for the _Steadfast's_ sprawling corridors, bustling with activity.

Nobody stopped them, though that didn't help with the creeping dread that made its home in the pit of Hux's stomach. It came to a head when they reached the hangar door, rising like bile in his throat.

"Hey, are you okay?" Dameron was concerned enough, and _brazen_ enough to remove his helmet. "You don't look so good." If he'd been feeling better he might have told Dameron that he was one to talk, when he couldn't even be bothered to shave or run a comb through his hair. But he didn't.

"I'm fine," he lied, wrapping his arms around himself as the burning cold seeped into his bones. Hux was no more sensitive to the Force than the average person, but it was nigh on impossible to spend that much time around Force users and not recognise that peculiar aura of repulsion.

He could have turned around, or warned Dameron, but he'd only have been delaying the inevitable by a few minutes at most. Kylo Ren was already at the other side of the door.

He already knew they were there.

Hux wasn't sure why he reached for Dameron's arm when the saber sliced through the reinforced door as if it was paper, but it was the last thing he did before he felt the tight grip of the Force around his neck, like an invisible noose.

CYCLE 27 

Not for the first (or second, or tenth) time, Hux was extremely grateful for the privacy of the 'fresher as he coughed his guts up. Nor was it the first time he'd been Force-choked, though it _was_ the first time it'd killed him. He thought he might prefer burning to death again if he had to choose between the two, though he couldn't decide whether that was more to do with his loathing for Kylo Ren or the Force itself.

When he found Dameron again, he looked dreadful. (Or at least as dreadful as Dameron _could_ look. The man managed to make a bloodied lip look like Coruscant couture.) Hux recalled that he, too, had history with Ren, and felt something akin to empathy. Perhaps that was what had him so shaken.

"Finn's gone," he said, straight to the point, "and Chewie, and the droids, too." That didn't make sense, until Hux considered the possibility that, this time round, they'd never been on the _Steadfast._ In fact, it _still_ didn't make sense.

"Then why are _you_ here?"

"Nice to see you, too, Hugs." That wasn't what Hux had meant, and Dameron _knew_ it. It was simply that him being here to rescue someone who'd _never_ been here was nonsensical. "I told you already, I'm supposed to be here. Every time I've tried to leave things have gone...badly." Well, that was quite the understatement.

"For what it's worth," he said carefully, enunciating each word, "they're not the only ones to have disappeared." He thought back to Unamo, as he did every time he filed the maintenance report for that damn turbo lift.

"What do you mean?" Hux rested his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath.

"Exactly what I said. I saw Chief Petty Officer Unamo at the beginning of every cycle until we found out that..." He waved his hand in a circular motion as shorthand for something along the lines of _'we're stuck in a time loop together and still have no idea why.'_ Dameron ran a hand through his curls, slightly damp with sweat, and worried at his lower lip in that infuriating way of his.

"Then what changed?"

"She didn't die." She hadn't vanished in the cycle immediately following her change in route, but Dameron didn't need to know that. The last thing Hux needed to deal with right now was a grown man getting hysterical (Ren was already more than enough trouble in that regard). If they were going to make any headway, he needed Dameron to keep a clear head. Besides, he'd had a point - _something_ had to have changed, and Hux doubted the incident with Unamo was irrelevant. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the three stormtroopers he'd stunned either.

Relief washed over Dameron's features. Or hope. It was always _hope_ with these people.

"That's _it._ I was thinking too small!" Hux grimaced, already expecting the worst. "Every time we die, we're basically getting a chance for a do-over, and if the effects carry over into the next loop..." Hux rubbed at his temples. Yes, this was almost certainly going where he'd feared it would.

Much of Hux's afternoon - or maybe evening, he'd lost track since his own measurements of time had become somewhat atypical - was spent attempting to prevent Dameron from getting them both killed. Inadvertently, of course, since the _acting_ General and hero of the Resistance couldn't possibly be trying to _murder_ him.

It was, of course, about the girl. Mostly, anyway, though Dameron _also_ dived in front of the flametrooper to push someone out of their line of fire. (Luckily he'd been wearing a flame-resistant fleet technician's uniform, or things could have gone very badly.)

"She didn't bring down that transport," Dameron explained, "but she came here anyway, for the dagger."

"For a _dagger."_

"Don't be obtuse. Obviously not just _any_ dagger." Hux assumed he referred to one of the numberous Sith artifacts that Ren had collected over the past year, wasting First Order resources while he was at it. He didn't recall any dagger, though that was no surprise. Ren didn't trust Hux, and Hux had no real interest in Ren's mystical pursuits, beyond avoiding them to the best of his ability.

"She's not like him, you know. They're not all like him," Dameron said, as if reading his mind - thankfully _without_ the feeling that someone was ripping through the tapestries of his memories. Years of prolonged exposure to Snoke and Ren's mind probes meant Hux was more resilient than many, but the experience had remained deeply unpleasant.

"Well, thank the stars for _that."_ The only other person Hux had seen wielding a lightsaber was Skywalker, on Crait, and _apparently_ he hadn't really been there at all. He'd cut an impressive figure all the same, radiating a calm discipline that Hux could appreciate, even in an enemy. It was a shame that he'd clearly been a _very_ poor teacher.

"General Organa - I'm told you call her our _precious princess_ \- is strong with the Force, too," he continued, "and-"

"-and so were Vader and Palpatine." Hux hadn't had the opportunity to meet the self-styled emperor, and he hoped he never would. If he never saw Ren and his knights again, trudging around and dragging dirt over the immaculate floors of the _Steadfast,_ it would be too soon. "Exactly what point are you trying to make, Dameron?"

"That people are complicated?" He shrugged. "Back home, before I was born, my parents planted this Force-sensitive tree. I used to climb it, sometimes, when I was a kid - I liked it more than the other trees around and, let me tell you, there's no shortage of trees on Yavin-4."

"Of _course_ you climbed trees, like some kind of kowakian monkey-lizard."

"Wow, I'm seriously offended. Those things are a _huge_ pain in the ass - hey, don't look at me like that. Anyway, as I was saying, one day I rigged a pair of old podracer engines to my dad's koyo picker...long story short, the engines singed the branches." The story was already too long for Hux's liking, but Dameron showed no signs of stopping just yet. "Dad made me spend the whole year taking care of that tree, nursing it back to health. Things...weren't great back then, but being around that tree kind of helped. Good vibes or something, I guess. That's how I feel around Rey."

"Perhaps you ought to save the love confessions for the person they actually concern." Despite everything, Dameron was unable to contain his laughter.

"Me and Rey? No, no, _no._ She and Finn- well, anyway, if I fancied someone I'd hardly be comparing them to a _tree."_

"I'm relieved to hear it." And, for some reason, he was.

The _Steadfast's_ corridors were eerily quiet when Hux led Dameron, whose borrowed technician's uniform was singed like the tree from his tale (courtesy of the flamethrower), to the escape pods. Hux didn't think he'd ever walked down such a sparsely populated corridor in his life. He resisted the instinct to flinch when Dameron rested a hand on his forearm, instead slowing to meet his pace.

"We did good today," Dameron said, "helped a lot of people." They'd mostly rescued troopers and mechanics and technicians from various mishaps, unearned punishments, or, in one instance, the flametrooper's poor control over his weapon. Or, well, Dameron had done those things and taken Hux along for the ride. He hadn't exactly minded. He'd even assisted with the proper datawork, because it was something to do while Dameron was busy being his usual not-quite-reckless self.

"Why are you helping them?" he'd asked, after Dameron had assisted one of the pilots with her BB-series astromech droid.

"As a wise friend once told me, _it's the right thing to do."_ The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled fondly, before breaking into a soft chuckle. "He needed a pilot." Hux had the feeling he was missing something, even as he understood the words.

Their knees bumped as they settled into the escape pod together, and Hux had to crouch forward, his face close enough to Dameron's that he could feel his every shaky breath against his lips. Dameron gripped his knee as the escape pod launched, and Hux instinctively placed a gloved hand over the bare, trembling fingers as they were plunged into an explosion of stars in the vast emptiness of space.

CYCLE 28 

Thirty seconds later, Hux found himself staring at the wall where the mirror ought to be. Disorientated, he left the 'fresher a few seconds earlier than usual, automatically reaching for his datapad to file the maintenance report he'd been filing every day for the last month. When that wasn't where it should be either, he clenched his teeth and picked up the marker pen he kept on his chest of drawers. Since he didn't have any flimsy to hand, he supposed he'd be defacing First Order property. Clearly all this time spent with Dameron was turning him into some kind of miscreant.

The corridors were empty as he began to scrawl his warning across the turbo lift's door, violating at least nine First Order property laws. There was probably something very funny about the words _Out of Order_ on anything belonging to the First Order as well, but he didn't care to think about it too deeply. Far earlier than usual, yet somehow right on cue, Dameron appeared beside him to admire his handiwork.

"It'll wash off," Hux said, not entirely sure that it would. Maybe it would still be there in the next cycle, even. He wasn't really sure of _anything_ any more. Dameron nodded, his eyes thoughtful.

"Did we miss something? Someone?"

"I don't know." The words felt heavy on his tongue, too solid. It was his job to _know._ "If I can find a datapad I'll be able to check the crew's dossiers, see if I can find any clues."

"Yeah, sounds good." Dameron seemed deflated, practically dragging himself along to keep up with Hux's usual brisk pace. "What if- no, never mind."

When they reached his office, Hux searched again for a datapad, without success. They'd likely have to go to the bridge to access a console, assuming they hadn't disappeared, too. The drawer to his desk snapped shut, and he perched on the edge to take a moment.

"We'll work something out," Dameron said, and Hux nodded without really considering, "by the way, your decor is very...minimalistic."

When Hux started laughing, he couldn't stop. He laughed until he was hollowed out from it all, and when he saw that Dameron had joined in, he laughed some more.

"I'm sorry, is it a _bad time_ to talk about your decor?" Hux was barely able to stop laughing for long enough to form a coherent reply.

"It's a bad time, full stop." Dameron was standing between his legs, their faces on a level with one another again, like in the escape pod.

They didn't bother shedding any more clothing than was strictly necessary - in other words, Hux's boots, jodhpurs, and underwear. Dameron was content to push his own pants down to his knees after hoisting Hux up onto the desk, even emptier than he remembered it being.

Hux leaned back, his grip on the edge of the desk turning his knuckles bone-white, as the tip of Dameron's cock brushed up against his ass. He wanted to tell him to just fuck him, that they might not have much time, but while that wasn't a lie, it wasn't the whole truth. They had all the time in the galaxy to die, and die again, and for Dameron to bury his cock inside him.

Only, maybe they didn't, and what Hux wanted right now was to feel _alive._

"Are you sure about this?" He ignored the fact that the bacta gel smeared over Dameron's cock reminded him of the first cycle, when he'd used that same bacta to treat a blaster wound. (It'd been the only thing they could find in his office that was fit for purpose.)

"Why? Are you having second thoughts already?" Dameron chuckled, his grin making him look less tired, as Hux angled his hips in an attempt to push back.

"It's a bad idea. But I think we both already knew that."

"The worst," Hux agreed, with a wry smile. They might not be the best match, or even a half-decent match, but at least they'd both remember it. Dameron's thrusts were still too slow and shallow, and Hux had to wrap his legs around his waist to pull him closer, deeper. He hissed at the initial sting, settling into a sensation that wasn't wholly painful or pleasurable.

"You okay there?" Dameron was still moving slowly, but Hux revelled in the feeling of...well, fullness, he supposed, and the way Dameron's cock dragged back and forth inside him. "It can be a lot the first-"

"Don't flatter yourself, Dameron. You're not _that_ good," Hux said, though the effect was spoiled somewhat when his breath hitched in his throat. Their noses bumped when Dameron moved forward, laughing. Not the kind of laugh Hux had come to expect, but light and breathless.

"I was speaking from experience, actually. Maybe after this we could try-"

"Yes...fuck, _yes."_

One of Dameron's hands was on his hip now, fingernails scraping against the skin with the force of each thrust, while the other was tugging at a fistful of his hair, just enough for it to feel good. Hux hadn't expected Dameron to kiss him while he was fucking him (even though it was an incredibly _Poe Dameron_ thing to do), and while it definitely wasn't something _he'd_ have initiated, it wasn't so unpleasant.

He clamped a hand over his own mouth when Dameron met each jerk of his hips with a gentle thrust, taking care not to go too quickly or too roughly. He took advantage of the fact he could reach Hux's cock easily at this angle, though his strokes were slow and sloppy.

"Harder," he said, the word coming out as an undignified whimper. He supposed fucking wasn't exactly a pastime one associated with _dignity_ anyway. When Dameron looked up from where he'd buried his face against Hux's collar, he looked a little harried, a little desperate, and very much _alive._

That was when the bomb under his desk went off.

CYCLE 29 

Hux rested his head against the wall, cool where the mirror should have been, and tried not to focus on the tender ache in his arse. There would be time to examine those feelings later, if he cared to. He gave himself a few moments before turning around to see the door was open (no, _gone),_ revealing the interior of his personal quarters. The silvery shine of the walls had taken on a drab tone and, when he stepped out of the 'fresher, he discovered the furniture had vanished. He made his way through the sinister grey void, habitually avoiding obstacles that were not there.

The only sounds in the _Steadfast's_ long, twisting corridors were the crisp echoes of his own footsteps on the glittering black tiles, piercing through the ominous ambience. He didn't know what to expect when he reached his office, but the anticipation was surely worse than anything that could be waiting for him there. If anything was waiting for him.

Somehow, he knew it would be.

Only the desk remained, with the memories of his previous visit tugging at something in his chest, making it feel uncomfortably tight. He opened the drawer again, to see his datapad exactly where it should be, and picked it up with trembling fingers when Dameron entered.

"Can't believe I _literally_ blew your mind there." Hux rolled his eyes, though if there was one flavour of humour he'd become comfortable with, it was gallows humour.

"Really, Dameron. I only wanted a _little_ death."

"Hmm, that doesn't sound like you." He sidled up to Hux to peek at the datapad, their elbows knocking together. "You found it, then." Hux nodded, his index finger still hovering over the power button, unsure of what he was waiting for. Part of him expected the tablet to have been wiped, and he was no slicer. Even if he had been, he didn't imagine he could have recovered anything he wasn't supposed to see this time. Each cycle had rules, to be sure, but not all of them were rational.

Dameron reached over, looking at Hux with an expression he couldn't quite read, and laced their fingers together over the sleek, silver button. It felt...right. It _shouldn't_ have felt right. It should have felt weird, or uncomfortable, or most likely both. But dying together bred a peculiar kind of intimacy between them, even before Hux had knotted his fingers in Dameron's hair and asked him to fuck him.

The screen lit up, revealing a single file on the device: the _Steadfast's_ muster roll.

"I doubt that's going to be a long list," Dameron said softly, running his free hand over his stubble. "I guess you're probably in command of this ship at the minute, so I'll let you do the honours." Hux swallowed, but the lump in his throat remained.

He was not, it turned out, the highest ranking individual aboard the _Steadfast._ It was fitting, really, that confronting the very thing he'd been trying to avoid all this time might end up being the key to breaking the cycle.

"Kylo Ren, huh?" Dameron looked about as enthusiastic as he felt at the prospect of seeking out the Supreme Leader. "Do you think he's responsible for this after all?"

"No, I don't _think_ so, but..."

"But you think there's a reason he's the only one, besides us, who hasn't disappeared. Makes sense. I mean, as much as any of this makes sense." Dameron's fingers brushed the back of his hand, light and fleeting upon the leather of his glove. He thought about removing it, but didn't.

"Yes." He had no particular reason to keep his suspicions from Dameron, other than that announcing his intentions to face his greatest fears and inadequacies made manifest in a psychopathic manchild would be extremely embarrassing. But he'd decided that was a pretty good reason, all things considered. Besides, Dameron wasn't an idiot. He'd probably already figured it out moments after reading Ren's name on the datapad.

"I guess we've both got a bone to pick with him." Hux recalled the footage provided by the IT-000 series interrogation droid assigned to Dameron, back on the _Finalizer._ It had been fairly standard procedure, until Ren had entered and it had become a far nastier, messier business. Dameron gave his hand a tentative squeeze, and he didn't feel the urge to bat him away as they walked together through another doorway without a door.

The TIE Silencer let out a scream as it ripped through the desolate wasteland of the hangar bay. Dameron, in spite of everything, was looking on in awe of the thing. Hux had never seen the aesthetic appeal of the design, and didn't have a pilot's sensibilities, but he could appreciate the efficiency of the upgraded TIE fighter models. He inhaled sharply as the Supreme Leader's personal TIE fighter landed only a few metres away from them.

Dameron's hand was so light in his that Hux had almost forgotten he still had hold of it, until they took a synchronised step backwards. He concentrated on the steady beat of Dameron's pulse, while his own heart seemed to pound against his ribs. An all too familiar wave of nausea rippled through his gut, and he fought the urge to double over as the cramps began. They weren't normally so severe, but nothing about their situation here was normal.

"Before we meet our inevitable doom, _again,"_ Dameron said, "I'm actually glad it was you."

 _"Me, too,"_ Hux said softly, glad that no further explanation was needed. He already felt far more naked than when he'd had Dameron's cock inside him, and his chapped lips dragging along his neck, seeking out soft skin beneath the stiff collar. He dared to hope that, after this, those lips would find his again. That they'd find each other again.

Kriff, Dameron really was rubbing off on him.

With a hiss of smoke, a tall figure emerged from the TIE, black cape billowing behind him. He raised his large hands to his mask, tracing the luminous red veins that held the misshapen fragments together, before finally revealing his face. Ren always did have to be bloody dramatic about everything.

Some in the First Order whispered amongst themselves that without the mask, he was just a man, but they didn't know Ren. He didn't need a _mask_ to be dangerous, or even a weapon. All the mask really did was conceal his face, and his past. But what remained hidden, bubbling beneath the surface, was never really gone. It was merely _trapped._

"I sensed I'd find you here," Ren said. As he tossed his helmet aside, the noise echoed throughout the hangar bay. Dameron shuffled forward slightly.

"Which one of us?" Ren didn't grace them with an answer, instead drawing his lightsaber. "Woah, careful with that. Looks unstable." Hux was sorely tempted to kick Dameron in the shin. Appealing as he'd found it in the past, now didn't exactly seem like the best time to poke and prod at Ren's myriad of insecurities.

He glanced downwards as Ren's helmet rolled into the steel-capped toe of his boot, crimson splitting the sleek black shards like lightning. It was ugly and broken, and it was everything he'd grown to despise about the First Order since Ren's ascension. He smothered the impulse to crush it under his heel.

"It's not too late, you know," Dameron said, straightening his back, as if he could even get close to reaching Ren's height. His hand twitched in Hux's as he drew Ren's full attention. "It doesn't have to go like this."

"There is no other way."

"You're wrong. You have a choice," Dameron said, his eyes flickering towards Hux for a moment, "we all do. To do better, to _be_ better." Ren laughed, and Hux realised it might well have been the first time he heard him do so without his helmet distorting the sound into something inhuman.

"You're inviting me to join you? Perhaps your friends didn't tell you what happened to the last person who did so." Hux clenched his teeth as the old anger burned through him, as it had done every time Pryde or one of the other decrepit ex-Imperials had deigned to remind him of the "folly" of Starkiller Base, without acknowledging _whose_ folly that had been.

"I'm not especially worried about you killing me." Hux heard what Dameron didn't need to say - that there were things worse than death. Especially for them. Ren smirked.

"And I suppose the Resistance would welcome me with open arms?"

"I'm not saying that, no," Dameron hesitated for a few seconds, as if he'd lost his way, but quickly regained his footing, "but we'd give you the chance to change. To make that choice. It's never too late to _try."_ Shakily, he extended his free hand to Ren as Hux looked on. He should have known Dameron would be foolish enough to try to help _every_ last soul on the _Steadfast._

Ren hung his head, his dark, stringy hair falling over his face, and tightened his grip on the hilt of his lightsaber. It bordered on pitiful.

"You know I can't. I can't leave this place."

He raised his weapon, and that, as they say, was that.

CYCLE 30

Hux startled at his own reflection, and clutched at his side, where the sputtering plasma blade had struck. It didn't hurt. He couldn't feel any of the phantom wounds he'd been walking off for the last...he didn't even know how long. The only pain left was the dull headache he'd been nursing for what felt like his entire life. No more than background noise, really. He removed his glove and reached out to touch the glass, remembering the placement of the single fingerprint. He made his mark before heading out into the busy corridor, knowing exactly what to expect.

He filed the maintenance report. He escorted Chief Petty Officer Unamo to the second turbo lift. He submitted his reports to Pryde, with certain information emitted, citing security concerns. He endured Ren wagging his ridiculously long finger in his face, both literally and figuratively.

He knew exactly what to expect, until he didn't.

Dameron was busy bickering with Finn over the girl again, presumably keen to offer romantic advice, which would have been deeply laughable for a lot of different reasons if Hux hadn't been trying to figure out why Dameron didn't seem to have any idea what was going on. Or, rather, he knew what was going on insofar as he was being escorted to his own execution. Each time Hux managed to catch his eye, he failed to find even the briefest glimmer of recognition of what had passed between them. It wasn't until Dameron spoke that he realised he'd been staring.

"Like what you see, General?" he smirked, before one of the stormtroopers urged him forward with their blaster. The Wookiee growled at the trooper in question.

"I'll like it more when you're on your knees." Finn groaned and shook his head at Dameron, who clearly had more he wanted to say. Loathe as he was to admit it, there'd been a reason Hux had been ready to recommend him for the leadership program, and Finn's ability to effectively shut Dameron up earned him Hux's respect, albeit begrudgingly.

The execution chamber was, as always, spotless. Whatever, or whoever, had been in here the last time the room was used was long gone, vacuumed up and ejected into space with the trash. Hux felt his stomach turn as the troopers lined up behind their prisoners. He hadn't counted on Dameron not remembering the previous cycles, and it...complicated things.

"Turn around." He _did_ know what to do for this next part, at least.

"Actually, I'd like to do this one myself," he said, accepting the nearest trooper's weapon when it was offered. It wasn't until the blaster registered his identiprint that he realised he hadn't put his glove back on since taking it off in the 'fresher, and he paused to slip it back on before taking aim.

The blaster shrieked three times, each trooper dropping to the ground in quick succession, alive but incapacitated. They'd be discovered by a patrol, no doubt, before they regained consciousness, but by then Hux and the prisoners would be long gone.

"I'm the spy," he announced, once again. The problem with reliving particular moments over and over was that everything he said began to sound insincere to his own ears, as if it were part of a script. Or maybe he'd always sounded that way, and was only just realising.

Well, he _had_ always been a firm believer in the notion that actions spoke louder than words.

_"What?"_

_"You?"_

"We don't have much time."

"I _knew_ it!" Dameron exclaimed, though everyone - Hux included - could see that he hadn't. It was strange how the words chafed this time around.

"No, you did not." Finn was right, and, as the four of them stepped out into the corridor, Hux wished he wasn't.

They reached the _Falcon_ without incident, but that was the easy part.

"Wait!" Hux rested his hand on Finn's shoulder, and realised it felt familiar, not only because he'd done this before, but because he and Dameron were around the same height.

"What?"

"You need me," Hux said, "I can help." Finn's hand was on his weapon, and while he hadn't drawn it yet, Hux was intimately familiar with how quickly that could change.

"Why _are_ you helping us?" Finn frowned, and Hux felt the barest nudge against his consciousness, chastising himself for not realising his abilities sooner. It was nothing so unpleasant or intrusive as one of Snoke or Ren's mind probes - if they wielded the Force like a hook, Finn cast it out like a net, drawing in only what was given willingly.

"It's...the right thing to do." It took all his effort not to stumble on the words, but Finn seemed satisfied, if slightly puzzled by what he was sensing. He grabbed Hux roughly by the arm, shoving him into the guts of the _Millennium Falcon_ with Dameron, the Wookiee, and their entourage of droids.

"You better not make me regret this," Finn murmured, blaster at his back.

The _Falcon_ rose, and as they prepared to soar into the unknown, Hux had no regrets about his decision.

Once they were in the clear, zipping through hyperspace, Hux found himself playing dejarik with the Wookiee - _Chewbacca,_ he reminded himself. He imagined that a few weeks ago, such a thing would have been the strangest situation he'd ever experienced but, things being as they were, it felt like a natural progression of events. The most surprising thing was that Chewbacca had an extremely sharp mind, and a good head for strategy. 

The three droids hovered around them - the golden protocol droid busied himself by fussing over the state of the entrance lock with its tangle of charred wires, while the astromech and the little cone-headed droid rolled around excitedly. Finn had made his way to the cockpit with Rey, whose last minute arrival had all the drama he associated with Ren and the Force, but none of the pretension.

"Congratulations," Hux said, as Chewbacca's Mantellian Savrip defeated his last remaining piece on the board, and he meant it. He'd have to challenge him to a rematch sometime.

"Poe wants to see you," Finn said, as he and Rey approached the table, "and you might have saved our hides, but don't think I haven't still got my eye on you."

"I wouldn't dream of it." The _Falcon_ was smaller than any ship Hux had ever served on, yet far harder to navigate. The corridors were twisted and disordered, as though a madman had ripped out and redesigned the freighter's interior. He hesitated by the escape pods, but made his way to the cockpit, engulfed in the blue light of hyperspace.

"Glad you could make the party, Hugs," Dameron said, spinning in his seat to beam at Hux as if they were two old friends reuniting, recognition spreading from his eyes to his perfect smile, "I knew you'd figure it out, too. I _knew_ it." Hux couldn't help smiling back as he stepped into the cockpit. _This_ was the Poe Dameron he'd come to know.

"Me, too."


End file.
